


Spider-Man and Deadpool Do Nonnie Prompts

by AGlassRoseNeverFades



Series: The Adventures of Autistic Spidey and Schizophrenic Wade (Who Fall in Love and Do Other Fun Stuff) [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Autistic Peter Parker, Because I like to pick and choose my favorite bits from all available canons as I please, But he's getting better about it, COMPLETE AND FINISHED AS IS, Christmas, Echolalia, First Fight, Flirting, Fluff, Halloween, Innuendo, M/M, Marvel Zombies reference, Minor reference to Resident Evil as well, Money Troubles, Not Edited Half as Well as My Other Fics for Grammar etc. Just FYI, Not strictly canon to comics or MCU, Pre-Slash, References Made to YouTube, Some Hints of Disordered Eating, Specifically Game Grumps, Stimming, Temporary Character Death, Texting, Tony still says some things that he shouldn't because he's Tony, Tumblr Prompts, adorable awkwardness, anon asks, bit of angst, oh nonnie my nonnie, schizophrenic Wade Wilson, sorta - Freeform, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGlassRoseNeverFades/pseuds/AGlassRoseNeverFades
Summary: I have the best anon ever who sends me all the sweetest prompts on tumblr. These are the greatest hits from that collection, which can also be found on my tumblr page under the tag "oh nonnie my nonnie." ^_^
All takes place in the same 'verse as Spider-Man and Deadpool Have a Meet-Cute.





	1. Stim Toys

**Author's Note:**

> **Anonymous asked:**  
>  You know what I could just see Deadpool gifting Spidey with? Stim toys. I can just imagine Wade coming up behind Spidey & just dropping a bag full of them right beside him. I don't think Peter would quite know what to do with probably hundreds of dollars worth of 'em.
> 
>  
> 
> _A/N: This first response started out as a meta before veering left into fic territory, thus the very different tone from all subsequent installments. ;)_

Oh my gosh, he’d just be sitting there hand-flapping and making squeaking noises in the back of his throat, thinking  _‘omg what is this what is this omg,’_ on a loop for a couple of seconds while his brain takes a moment to process. He wouldn’t even know which to start with, so he’d pick them up one by one just to get the feel of them before immediately setting that one back down again and moving on to the next. 

Picking up the puzzle toys and thinking to himself, _yes,_ he’ll have a lot of fun figuring this one out later over and over again until it’s so second nature he could probably beat world records with it. Moving on to the chewable ones and bending them in his hands, measuring how much give they have and estimating how long they’ll last against his sharp teeth before they start falling to pieces, realizing as he does so that Wade got _a ton_ in different varieties of toughness so he can swap out to a softer or a harder one anytime he wants depending on his mood.

Taking several minutes of just–well let’s be honest here, _playing_ –with his new toys before ever realizing he hasn’t even thanked Wade yet, has barely acknowledged his presence at all in fact since this wonderful spread was laid out before him. He immediately drops the last toy in his hand and looks up shamefaced because that is _not_ how you do manners like Aunt May taught him, but Wade is just staring at him with his chin in his hand, clearly smiling through his mask and lost in his own world _just watching Peter_ do the same.

“Can–can I… _really?”_ Pete asks, in disbelief that he can really just _have_ these, which is the only reason he hasn’t squealed his thanks loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear just yet.

“They’re all yours, baby boy,” Wade assures him, then lets out a soft grunt as that answer unexpectedly lands him an armful of spider-babe practically _sitting in his lap._ It’s funny, how someone supposedly not all that fond of touch pretty much loses all sense of barriers and propriety where _Wade Wilson_ of all people is concerned.

He can’t wipe the dopey grin off his face as Spidey continues to hug him, unconsciously rocking them both now, and mutters,  _“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,”_ like a mantra under his breath into the crook of Wade’s neck. He’ll blow the rest of his income littering all of New York City’s rooftops with stim toys from now on if this is the thanks it earns him.


	2. Gaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous asked:**  
>  Do you think there's any video games Peter likes, on any console, that he just absolutely adores & gets very excited about whenever he's playing or thinks about? Maybe not loud games, but quieter ones like Animal Crossing? Or fascinating ones like the Final Fantasy series etc? Or does he not like games/can't afford them? Maybe Wade introduces him to some on his PSP/DS & you'll sometimes find them on a quiet night side by side playing, or Wade giving tips as Peter tries on his own.

Peter loves the simplicity and routine of quiet farming games like Harvest Moon, but he can’t afford to upgrade to the latest and greatest consoles every time they come out—he has a GameCube, a PS2, and a first-gen 360, all of which have been keeping him perfectly content for years, thank you very much. When he hears about Stardew Valley being released for the PC, however, he flaps his hands and bounces happily in his seat, because finally he gets to play a brand new game that promises to be a great spiritual successor to one of his favorite franchises.

He doesn’t take the amount of time or consideration he normally would to come up with a name for his furry mutt companion. Of course his character’s best friend could only possibly be Wade. When the game asks for his favorite food as well, he almost says ice cream, until he remembers a time Wade would not stop saying the word ‘chimichanga’ and Peter’s own echolalia happily went along with it as well, agreeing with the older man that it had too many nice shapes and syllables and sounds within its letters _not_ to bear repeating. It became sort of a weird game between them to see who could say it in the funniest possible voice for the next two hours.

Of course, they play _actual_ games together as well, mainly the obvious ones like Pokémon Go on their phones or swapping Wade’s 3DS back and forth to take turns at Mario Kart. What rapidly becomes Peter’s favorite pastime though is going back to Wade’s apartment and watching the other man play story-rich single-player games like Fallout or Dragon Age for hours on end. He loves how hyper-focused Wade gets when he’s concentrating on a particular challenge, and the lively conversations sparked by the moral dilemmas that come up or the occasional parallel to real life social justice issues.

When he jokes that they should muscle in on the Game Grumps’ territory and make some of that mad Let’s Player money for themselves, he doesn’t expect Wade’s loud squeal of, _“Yes, please!”_ and enthusiastic scramble after that to get a face cam and other tools of the trade for their setup. If he hadn’t already seen for himself what other kinds of things Wade likes to spend his boatloads of cash on, he might feel guilty for encouraging him.

“No one’s going to believe it’s the real us,” Peter does take the time to point out reasonably. “They’ll think we’re just cosplayers trying to get views using a superhero gimmick.”

“Who cares? No other supes are doing it yet, that’s what makes you a genius, baby boy!” Peter blushes under his mask. “Who knows, maybe we’ll even start a trend. YouTube stardom, here we come!”

It’s impossible not to get swept up in Wade’s enthusiasm as he hits _‘Record’_ for the first time, even if Peter certainly won’t be quitting his day job for this anytime soon.


	3. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous asked:**  
>  Imagine Spidey getting startled, maybe when his nerves are hyper-alert or something, and instead of attaching himself to the ceiling or flat surface, he flings himself onto Deadpool, piggyback style or chest to chest with his legs & arms wrapped around Wade. On an unrelated-ish note, Wade getting flustered everytime Spidey even touches him in any way, just because Wade adores him so much already & he's not used to gentle/affectionate touches.

“Baby boy, you’re not actually _scared_ are you?” Wade asks. Peter can hear the irrepressible, knowing grin in his voice.

“Shut up, of course I’m not scared of a little black light and stupid fake cobwebs and—” he cuts off, head turned at the eerie rattle of chains and ghostly whispers. Easily distracted, obviously, but not _scared._ “Stupid, cheesy horror soundtracks,” he finishes after a moment.

How he let Deadpool talk him into going to a haunted house exhibit is beyond him anyway, though he supposes it does beat the usual rounds of trick-or-treating and grown-ups looking at him funny before asking if he isn’t a little _old_ to be going around dressed up as Spider-Man and begging people for candy.

Yeah, he already has the costume, so why not dress up every year as himself for Halloween? Peter’s broke and can’t afford to buy his own candy, let alone a new costume every October, so sue him. (But really, please don’t.)

“Sure, sure,” the merc responds agreeably. “Just remember that’s what Daddy’s here for, buttercup. Your big, strong man’s here to protect you from the scary monsters.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, _Daddy,_ just don’t—” _Hold your breath,_ he’d been about to say, but the words die in his throat as something large and furry and chittery with lots of legs starts falling from the ceiling at him, and with a very manly squeak of terror he jumps away and wraps himself around the nearest warm, solid, comforting weight he can find.

_“Whoa,”_ Wade breathes out, stumbling backward with arms suddenly full of squirmy, heart-thumping spider-boy and not entirely sure what to do with it. Niggling at the back of his brain is a hilarious quip about Spider-Man jumping back in fright from a giant stuffed _spider,_ of all things, but that thought takes a back burner to his hyperawareness of the younger man’s body wrapped around him in a vicelike hold, even as his adorable masked head nuzzles against the crook of Wade’s neck in a manner that would make even the coldest of hearts melt. That, and the fact that Wade has no idea where to put his hands, firmly ignoring Italics and Bold’s for-once simultaneous excited shouting that this is prime opportunity for him to **_touch the booty._**

Instead of doing that, Wade gulps and pats the younger man uncertainly on the head, unsure what else he’s supposed to be doing to help. After another moment, Spidey lowers himself to his feet and twists his head to look at the now obviously fake spider behind him, letting a few nervous titters escape past his lips.

“Sorry, um, can’t believe you’re not already cracking a million jokes at my expense though,” he admits sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m saving them all up for later,” Wade promises him, hoping the other doesn’t notice the mild shake to his voice. His skin still tingles in all the places Peter brushed against him through the suit.

“Okay, well…” the younger trails off, Wade’s throat seizing as Spidey shyly takes hold of his hand then. He doesn’t let go though, not even close, squeezing those long, spindly fingers back reassuringly as they carry on through the rest of their private tour for two.


	4. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous asked:**  
>  Do you think Peter and/or Wade would be the people to pull out a sprig of mistletoe whenever they're in the same vicinity because they love the other's kisses so much & giving them? Doesn't even have to be during December, it happens all year around probably. Not that they would ever deny the other, the mistletoe is just extra incentive.

_“Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say on a briiight Hawaiian Christmas Day!”_

It’s November, not even Thanksgiving yet, but still more than acceptable for every grocery store and coffee shop across the nation to already start playing classic carols over their PA systems 24/7. American capitalism at its finest this season. Peter wonders only vaguely which of these Wade must have just been at to get this particular earworm stuck in his head, but knowing the older man it’s entirely possible he thought about it all on his own and would have been already belting it out at full volume when he joined Peter on the rooftop even if it was the middle of August.

_“That’s the island greeting that we siiiing to you from the land where palm trees sway!”_ the Canadian continues, plopping down beside Spider-Man on the ledge with two disposable cups of steaming hot cocoa in his hands, one of which he hands off to the younger man. Coffee shop then. Peter thanks him with a simple hand gesture, not wanting to interrupt the man’s singing.

_“Folks here know that Christmas should be greeeen and bright, the sun to shine by day and all the staaaars at night!”_ Without missing a note, Wade fumbles for something in his pocket, some sort of green plastic plant from the looks of it, though it only dawns on Peter what for when the man dangles it high above their heads and wiggles it suggestively. _“Mele Kalikimaka is the wiiiise way to say Merry Christmas to youuuu!”_

Peter leans in just as Wade is finishing up, not expecting the man to turn his head ever so slightly to look at his companion on the final note. The result is that Peter’s quick, closed mouth kiss through their masks lands roughly at the corner of Wade’s already puckered lips instead of the cheek he was aiming for.

Peter pulls back, heart leaping into his throat, and takes a quick sip of his cocoa through the mask because he doesn’t want to pull it up and let Wade see his blush. “That…that was an accident,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I know,” Wade chuckles, putting the fake mistletoe away and rubbing his hand shyly at the back of his neck. “Next time I’ll try to remember to hold still.” He looks over at Peter then and snorts. “You’ve got some chocolate still on your mask,” he points out, and reaches up to swipe his thumb over the spot, the rest of his fingers curled under Peter’s chin. Peter shivers.

There’s a moment of tingling, pleasant tension between them, gloved thumb still resting gently over masked lips, before Wade takes his hand back and clears his throat awkwardly.

Peter can’t help smiling now, swinging his legs back and forth over the ledge, and starts humming the bars to _Mele Kalikimaka,_ the only sound to be heard in the unusual hushed, comfortable silence between them. He lets his shoulder rest against Wade’s for the rest of the time they’re sitting there, and thinks about Wade’s casual promise that there would be a next time.


	5. Mo' Money, Mo' Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous asked:**  
>  Peter is short on money - living paycheck to paycheck, barely enough to keep himself afloat much less eat as much as he probably should bc of Spidey work & his metabolism. Burns though calories like they're nothing. Imagine Deadpool finding out that this precious bundle of light eats only 1 small meal a day, if he's lucky. He'd take him out to eat & stuff him to the brim every time they see each other and/or buy him bags of groceries & have him take them home, and/or hand him a wad of cash too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shifted back and forth between present and past tenses way too much this time around and was too lazy to correct it, please forgive me!

Wade buys them both tacos _and_ pizza in celebration of a successful day’s patrol. Peter doesn’t bother pointing out that there was far more goofing around than actual patrolling today because, _dude,_ _tacos and pizza._ He always goes home later with a satisfactorily full stomach at the end of every “shift” with Wade. It’s one thing he misses almost as much as the man’s company itself every time the merc goes out of town for a few days on a job.

Wade nearly always buys way too much and fobs the leftovers onto Peter to take home, and more than once he’s “forgotten” wads of cash in the takeout bags as well—“change,” he tells Peter even though the younger man _knows_ there’s no reason any sensible cashier would hand back this many twenties on a fast food order. Just like he knows it’s all because of that one time he unthinkingly mentioned how he hadn’t been able to eat his favorite breakfast cereal in the morning for days because he couldn’t afford more milk yet and he was grumpy about it.

The first time Wade did it was not exactly smooth sailing for either of them. Peter had only noticed the money after he got home and immediately had texted Wade about it. That was when the “change” excuse came up, followed way too quickly by, _‘u should hold onto it, buy yourself something fancy. finders keepers amirite? ;)’_

Peter had only stared down blankly at the screen in his hand for a few moments, breathing heavily through his nose, and then carefully typed with what he considered to be an excellent amount of chill—no, his hands were most definitely _not_ shaking, thank you very much—‘ _Wade Wilson, I am NOT your fucking charity case’_ and flung the phone away from him halfway across his tiny apartment. Fortunately, it was the Stark phone and made of much sturdier stuff than the one Aunt May had saved up for him, so it didn’t so much as crack the screen, though there was a little chip at the corner of the casing from where it had knocked into the wall and left a dent in the drywall from the force of his throw.

The text notifications came pinging in one after another for a few minutes after that, though thankfully no ringtone. Wade was smart enough to know better than to call him in that moment.

Two hours later, Peter finally stretched himself out of the gargoyle-like pose he’d hunched himself into on the flimsy fold-out table, staring blankly at a random spot on its scuffed surface the entire time and thinking about nothing at all. The leftover fries had long gone cold and soggy by then. Standing and staring blankly at the phone on the floor for several more minutes then, he finally found himself shuffling forward and picking it up, waiting until he’d changed into his pajamas and huddled himself into his blanket nest on the bedroom carpet before swiping it on and reading the messages there.

_\- shit_

_\- imsorryimsorryimsorry_

_\- please don’t be mad. prolly too late huh? fUCK_

_\- it’s not a pity thing i swear_

_\- bb boi please talk to me_

_\- please_

The next text was timestamped twelve minutes later, which made sense. Peter thought he remembered during his blank time staring at nothing hearing a lull followed by a few more pings several minutes after the first round had stopped.

_\- ok. you’re probably not even reading these yet rn. that…yeah. that makes sense. i get it. ill try to quit bothering you but_

_-uh, lemme try to compose myself properly for a sec and get back to you._

Another later timestamp, this one another eight minutes after.

_\- Baby boy…I KNOW your not a fuckin charity case. The fact that you think I thought that means i fucked up bad. I’m sorry. Really REALLY sorry. You’re not charity. You’re fuckin Spiderman dude! You’re my goddam hero! You’re smart and quirky and badass and laugh at all my dumbass jokes. what’s not to cherish about that? i…ok yeah, I already said it anyway. I CHERISH you, ok? sorry if that’s a creepy af thing to say. its true. #bromance_

_\- anyway. the money…I still don’t want it back. Hope that doesn’t make you madder. Like I said its not a pity thing, i just…I lose my FUCKING MIND thinking about you not eating for days alright?? that shit’s not ok. THAT’S WAY BEYOND NOT OK. sorry for yelling. shit. Look, Im gonna be way too real with you for a sec and I’m scared that’s gonna scare you off but I gotta…I was *this* close to stalking you so I could find where you live and stock ur fridge up before the boxes told me that was a really bad fucking idea. in hindsight handling it this way instead was a dick fucking move but I had to SOMETHING before I did something worse, you get me?_

_\- shit, you’re probably freaked out now._  Peter was not. _i’d be freaked out if someone said that shit to me. sorry again._

_\- um…i’m really bad at this. obviously. I’m trying to be a good friend and instead I’m being a creepy mofo talking about stalking you and shit. Smooth Wade, smooth._ Peter couldn’t help it—he snickered. _I wouldn’t actually do it ok? I know your secret identity is important to you and I wouldn’t mess it up like that. I just…uh, tryin to illustrate a point, i guess. That THIS is important to me. You continuing to be your cute funny badass self and not keeling over from hunger pains. so…will you let me still feed you once in a while? pleeeeeeeease?? <3_

At last, he got to the last text. Once again, another gap between the timestamps, though this one was only four minutes.

_\- Also I hope I didn’t weird you out too much with that stuff earlier and that we’re still friends. I understand if it was crossing the line though. If it was lemme know and i’ll never ever do anything like that again, Spiderman, promise. Cross my <3 and hope to die. Can’t die, but you get the point. _Peter did, and he giggled again in spite of himself.

Peter couldn’t have explained to anyone in that moment what he was feeling. It seemed he’d run the gamut of them in the past few hours, going from indignant rage and depression earlier to feeling nothing, then guilty about the way he’d reacted as he read Wade’s apologies and attempts to explain himself, then at the same time really warmed and almost sort of bubbly to realize he meant _this much_ to the older man, and okay, maybe a smidge weirded out too at certain parts, but even those were so sweet and genuine and quintessentially _Wade_ that it made Peter even happier, which probably said something messed up about him too, but whatever. Human emotions were confusing and weird and stupid to Peter at even the best of times, so trying to figure out the perfect response here was turning quickly into a feat beyond imagining for him.

How to tell Wade that everything is fine now, that of course they’re still friends, and even that _yes,_ embarrassing as it is for him to admit considering how much he already seems to rely on the older man to stay well-fed, he will continue to let Wade buy him food and even turn a blind eye the next time Wade wants to sneak him some extra cash because it really is _extremely helpful_ and he knows he’s too proud to the point of stubborn to ask anyone for help when he needs it and he doesn’t want Wade to worry unnecessarily about him anymore? How? _How do words?_

Biting his lip softly, Peter types the only thing he can think of and hopes it’ll convey enough until he’s brave enough and coherent enough to say what he really needs to.

_\- It’s Spider-Man._

_\- With a dash and a capital M._

_\- Get it right, ya dork._

He continues to stare down at the screen, and not thirty seconds later sees the loading dots that mean Wade is typing. The man must have kept his phone close by this whole time just waiting for Peter’s response, and that makes him feel a bit more guilty for making him wait so long.

_\- well excuuuuse me, princess_ More loading dots mean Wade still has more to say.

_\- And the correct term is hyphen, thou illiterate nerd._

Peter dissolves into a fit of both laughter and tears, relief comingling with joy as the dam breaks, and he exhausts himself on them until he has none left to give. It feels _good,_ like he’s glutted himself too much on just feeling, and Peter’s always been what his aunt would call a “sensitive soul” but even he didn’t know something like that was possible. It wrings him out dry like his panic attacks do, leaving him floating not on calm nothingness like he’s normally used to, but instead on a sense of profound contentment as he snuggles down deeper into his blanket nest and cradles his phone close to his chest before dropping right then into a warm, pleasant sleep.


	6. Tag and Snuggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **anonymous asked:**  
> 
> Happy 2017! I come bearing a prompt if it's to your liking. Deadpool & Spidey are in the middle of a battle, w/ Avengers or not, when Spidey gets sprayed by a mysterious gas. It doesn't do anything automatically, so the battle continues until they're done & all seems good when questioned if he's okay. When Wade comes around & asks how's he doing he says, "Better now that you're here." Turns out it lowers your inhibitions, a lot. Now Wade's permanently red after getting lavished with compliments. 
> 
> **and also:**  
> 
> Oh! Fyi, that Spideypool prompt could also be the other way around if you’d like. ^^

Technically, it’s supposed to be Peter’s day off. From work, since even Jameson is not enough of a hardass to illegally force his interns to work overtime, much as he would probably like to. From school, since it is still several weeks before the next semester at ESU starts. And yes, even from patrolling around the city as Spider-Man, since New York has seen astounding record lows in crime this week and, heck, he deserves a break once in a while, doesn’t he?

Thing is, he _would_ have left the tights hanging in his closet this morning and happily spent the entire day watching Star Trek reruns in his pajamas if not for one thing. Well, person really. Three guesses who.

“You’re it!” Wade crows, jumping high in the air and reaching out as far as his arm will allow in an attempt to tag Peter, while the younger man swings out of the way and lands gracefully at the top of the wall just out of Wade’s reach.

“Hey, no fair!” Wade calls out next. “I touched the heel of your boot, that _totally_ counts!” Peter only snickers and sticks out his tongue, which is difficult to see through the mask admittedly, but it’s the schoolyard _neh-neh-neh-neh_ wiggle of his fingers beside his head that really sells it anyway.

“Oh, it is _on_ now, baby boy,” the older man tells him, panda mask eyes narrowed in determination.

In a blink, Wade is gone, nothing in his place but a quick vortex of light flashing just as instantaneously back out of existence. A tingle dances up Peter’s spine, though not the “danger tingle” his spidey sense usually gives him as warning when some crook’s about to smash a fist into the side of his face so much as that “itsy bitsy tingle” he gets right before a mosquito decides to land on his arm. Yes, there’s a distinction and yes, he actually denotes them by those kinds of names. No, he’s never told anyone because the looks he gets just from uttering the phrase “spidey sense” like he’s an embarrassment to the super community at large are bad enough, despite the fact that it should be an obvious title because, _duh,_ what else would you call it?

At any rate, it’s the only warning he gets before Deadpool blinks back into existence again right beside him, and tosses both arms around his shoulders with a loud cry of, _“Gotcha!”_

“Cheater!” Peter declares. “It doesn’t count if you teleport!”

“Oh yeah? Says the guy who thinks using his webs and climbing up freakin’ walls with his fingertips is fair play.”

Well. He does have a point there, the younger man has to concede. And speaking of awesome spider powers…

_Thwip!_ Peter gracefully sails across the sky to the next building over, making sure to tap Wade lightly on the shoulder and declare him ‘it’ again as he makes his getaway.

With an indignant squawk, Deadpool slaps a hand over the teleporter button on his chest once more and gives chase. It continues back and forth like this for the rest of the afternoon until the sun begins its slow descent into the horizon.

*

It’s been like this—close companionship and little casual touches between them that Peter would never allow from anybody else—for so long that he doesn’t notice at first that something seems just a bit off about Wade after he took the brunt of that weird gas explosion their middling Villain of the Week tried to set off in the middle of the city while the Avengers are out of town fighting someone awesome like Galactus or whatever.

It’s been Boringsville here since they’ve been gone (and now Peter has the chorus to that Kelly Clarkson song going in a loop around his head, _yeah, yeah,_ fantastic, that’ll only be three or four hours of his life dedicated to trying desperately to remember the rest of the lyrics without success, _minimum_ ) but unlike usual, Spider-Man had not begged to be allowed to tag along on their epic adventure.

This is the last day Wade is in town before he has to leave for a contract in Rio that’s supposed to last for about a week. He’s not going to waste it begging for an invite that probably isn’t coming anyway. Sure, there’ll be other contracts and more sendoffs to his favorite merc later, but there’ll also be more alien space battles later too, so Peter cuts his losses and prioritizes where it counts.

Which is a good thing apparently, because Deadpool seems extra... _needy_ today for Spider-Man’s attention somehow. Even Peter, who’s never really been used to the _good_ kind of attention before now and doesn’t have much to compare it to, can admit that that’s saying a lot.

_“Baby boy,”_ he stage whispers at first, more of a hindrance than a help as Peter tries his best to help the local police force with cleaning up the aftermath while Wade all but clings to him like a second skin. _“Baaaaby booooy,”_ he tries again in a louder singsong voice which causes more than one bystander to glance back over at Spider-Man and his peculiar new sidekick with odd looks on their faces.

Peter sighs. “What, DP?” he asks, opting not to use the man’s name out in public even if his identity’s not so secret as most supes’.

The older man giggles. “Nothing,” he admits dreamily. Shaking his head, Peter turns back to what he was doing before, his _‘itsy bitsy’_ tingle racing up his spine to make him stiffen and hunch his shoulders in about a second before Wade wraps his arms around him tightly from behind and calls him by his favorite nickname again, this time in an almost pathetic whine.

“Dude, _what!”_ Peter snaps, immediately regretting it when the man slumps his head forward on his friend’s shoulder as if to hide his already covered face and cringes slightly at Peter’s tone.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. Wearily, he looks around the scene once more, Wade still clinging to him from behind. “Know what, it looks like they’ve got this. Come on, let’s get you home, big guy.”

“Hehe, I’ll show you big,” the older man says, and slides one arm off Spidey’s shoulder to let his hand stray dangerously close to his own waistline. Oh boy, he’s gotta get the merc out of here _fast_ before he does something he’ll regret later in public. Well, Wade probably won’t regret it, but Peter will feel plenty of secondhand embarrassment on his behalf, so close enough.

“Deadpool, _focus!_ Put your arms back around me and hold on tight.” Wade squeals with delight right in Pete’s ear, _owwww,_ and does exactly as told. Peter wastes no time shooting his web (Heh, “shooting his web,” sounds dirty. Great, now Wade’s awful sense of humor is rubbing off on him too. Heh, “rubbing off on him.” Parker, _focus._ ) and sailing halfway across the cityscape with his best friend on his back.

Wade’s excitement is infectious enough that Spidey doesn’t even mind the flash of all those camera phones clicking down below. Someone besides that Parker kid’s gotta bring in the pics now and then anyway before people start to put two and two together.

As soon as they get to Wade’s apartment, Peter peels him off gently and settles him comfortably on the couch, asking if he needs anything like a blanket or something to eat or drink, aware that he is very much mother-henning like Aunt May would be doing in this type of situation but unwilling to stop. Knowing that Wade’s healing factor means whatever this is won’t stay in his system for long doesn’t change the fact that Peter is a natural-born worrier.

Wade opens his arms wide and asks in a heart-meltingly earnest voice, “Snuggle me, Spidey-senpai?” How can Peter possibly say no to a voice like that?

It’s hard not to let Wade’s happiness seep into his own pores when the older man is practically vibrating with joy at getting to spoon together on the couch. And if Peter’s heart thumps just a little more loudly at how _right_ it feels to be wrapped up tight in the other man’s arms, well, it’s not like he didn’t already know his feelings for Wade spiraled dangerously deep into the “Intense Heart-Eyes, Motherfucker” category of crushes a long time ago. Peter may be basically tone-deaf when it comes to even his own emotions a lot of the time, but even he is not _that_ self-unaware.

“Truth is, I wanna do this all the time, but I’m usually too scared to ask,” Deadpool admits, the effects of the gas making him way too honest for his own good probably. Peter wonders for a moment what else he could get Wade to admit while in this state, and immediately bites down on his tongue to prevent himself from doing so. It would be taking an unfair advantage to do so while Wade is practically drunk.

“You can ask me anytime you want,” he does allow himself to say, the closest he’s gotten to an admittance of his own.

It’s sadly not the first time he’s developed a crush on a friend, and one of the reasons he’s all too aware of why he’s no good at having them. Most people tend to have this assumption that those on the spectrum are unemotional robots, but the reality at least in Peter’s case is that he feels way too damn much but either A) doesn’t know how to express it correctly, or B) has to emotionally distance himself from others on purpose in order to avoid getting way too creepily attached and possibly dependent on someone.

He’s learned the consequences of letting it run unchecked for too long at least once before, dancing around the topic for so long with Gwen that by the time he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, he didn’t even consider how it might turn out if she said no. When she did gently rebuff him, he basically closed himself off to her entirely and wouldn’t even speak in her presence or look at her for months afterward, like a total asshole. He felt angry and misled, not at her, but at himself for misreading her kindness and friendliness as reciprocation, yet the end result was the same. He hurt her for rejecting him, and he could never undo that.

Their relationship never fully recovered even after they made up. He’s still more comfortable texting her than he is seeing her in person, even though that was years ago now and by all appearances Gwen seems to have completely let it go.

Just thinking about it makes him go all cold and stony, and he has to force himself to relax and remind himself that _this isn’t the same._ Wade’s arms around him should already be proof enough of that, and yet...Peter has learned over the years never to trust his own assumptions about anything that is not explicitly stated, and even then to always take whatever is said with a grain of salt. NTs never seem to take the weight of their own words as seriously as Peter does; then again, Wade is just as far from neurotypical as Peter is, so maybe there’s hope after all.

“Next time I get to be the little spoon,” Wade mumbles, halfway asleep already judging by the slur to his words. Good, maybe the gas will have worn off entirely by the time he wakes up. It’s way too tempting to ask all kinds of things he knows he shouldn’t the longer Wade stays like this.

“Sure thing, Wade,” he answers, vaguely noting the slur of his own words and realizing Wade must not be the only one who’s tired. The idea of taking a nap together like this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

He allows himself one small indulgence, and nuzzles his cheek into the crook of Wade’s arm under the guise of burrowing himself in better to get more comfortable. He rapidly drifts off to the sound of Wade snoring softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, this particular prompt gave me inspiration on where to go next, so drafting of the "official" SM&DPHAMC sequel ~~(good lord, even the acronym is long, what was I thinking)~~ will begin soon! ^_^


	7. Wade dies, panic ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **anonymous asked:**  
> 
> for your autistic Spidey and schizo Deadpool one shots can you do one where Spidey has a panic attack in front of the avengers??? if you want to of course. Also I'm autistic and you don't find a lot of accurate autistic representation especially in fanfiction and I love the way you write Peter :))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave it some thought and decided not to write a panic attack per se, at least not like what Wade witnessed, if only because it wouldn't be fair to do that to Peter now after he's spent so many years avoiding letting the Avengers see him when he's so soft and vulnerable. So I took this to a similar place but sorta ran the other direction with it this time. ;)
> 
> This takes place sometime in the future after Peter and Wade have _finally_ gotten together. They've also patched things up with the Avengers by this point.

“Well, that went pretty well I’d say. Wouldn’t everyone agree?” Iron Man asks. The question is barely out of his mouth before Spider-Man sprints past him, faster than any normal twenty-or-so-year-old ever could, fast enough for Tony with his helmet face open and newly shrunk-back-down-to-human-size Bruce to feel the wind chill against their faces as he passes them.

“Not everyone,” Bruce mutters, glancing down to readjust his specially designed shorts to make sure they don’t fall down.

“Oh. Right. I’d forgotten about that part,” Tony says, unable to look away now that he’s been reminded because _really,_ how often do you see something like that? _That_ being Deadpool, currently impaled on a giant metal shard from the ship that exploded and fell out of the sky in pieces mere minutes ago.

( _“Another_ alien invasion? Seriously?” Tony had griped to no one in particular as they all hurriedly geared up less than an hour ago. “We fought one _last week._ At this point I’d happily fight off a zombie horde instead even if it is another cliché.”

“Do not even joke about that,” Deadpool had said, he and Spidey already suited up as usual and just waiting for the others to catch up so they can all pile onto the Quinjet together. “You do _not_ want to see what a world of flesh-eating us types looks like, trust me.”

“Yikes,” Spider-Man responded, appearing to give that some serious thought. “A bunch of supers infected with our very own homegrown T-virus? Now that would be scary.”

“You can relax though, baby boy,” Deadpool had reassured. “If I manage somehow to stay uninfected this time around, you can just lop off my limbs and eat those all day every day instead of having to worry about hunting down poor hapless humans.”

“Awww….”

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Tony had told them. _“After_ you help us put these baddies down, I mean.” He didn’t even want to know what Wilson meant by ‘this time around.’ Hopefully just more of his usual crazy nonsense.)

It is decidedly strange seeing someone you were just bantering with not long ago being very decidedly _dead_ right in front of you, but considering Deadpool’s track record of coming back faster than the Mortal Kombat guy would even be able to shout _“Fatality!”_ he isn’t exactly worried either. Shortstop, on the other hand, seems to have no trouble worrying up a storm big enough to make up for everyone else’s nonchalance.

“As soon as he wakes up, I want to thank him,” Hawkeye tells Spider-Man soberly, the other not seeming to hear him with how busy he is holding the dead man’s dangling head in his hands and muttering his name over and over again under his breath. “If he hadn’t pushed me out of the way, it’d be me making the human kebob impression right now,” he adds to try to lighten the mood a bit.

When that doesn’t work, he tries to reassure the younger man instead. “He _is_ going to wake up, Spider-Man, I promise. You just have to give him some time,” he says, reaching out to pat him lightly on the shoulder.

_“I know that!!”_ Peter screams without warning, knocking Clint’s hand back with enough force that he comes dangerously close to spraining the other man’s wrist. He doesn’t notice in his own distress that Barton backs away from him ever so slightly after that, cradling his hand and looking down at it with the expression of a man who realizes how close he just came to losing it.

_“I know,”_ he angrily shout-sobs again. Fucker just needs to hurry up and _get on with it._ The last time he witnessed Wade’s death, it was a bullet to the head meant for him, which _this idiot_ decided to take for him instead even though Peter’s quick reflexes and spidey sense would have kicked in to save him _just fine, dammit, seriously Wade, what the hell were you thinking, you big dumb romantic jerkface._ He had woken up much faster than this though, which is one of the reasons Peter is so worked up. The other is _Holy fuck, my lover just died in front of me and I couldn’t do anything to stop it and I’m allowed to feel bad about that, okay, fuck you very much._

It must be the metal shard that’s keeping him from regenerating yet, he thinks, deciding to ignore Wade’s previous handwavey comments about _“comic inconsistency for the sake of dramatic tension,_ _blah blah”_ in favor of doing whatever he can to speed Wade’s so-good-it’s-like-magic healing factor along.

“Whoa! _Hey!”_ Tony shouts once he’s recovered from the sudden shock of witnessing a huge, javelin-shaped hunk of metal go flying half a city block and bury itself deep into one of the only slabs of concrete still standing from a burnt out husk of a building across the street. “Watch what the hell you’re doing, underoos, you could have hit someone!”

The sound Spider-Man makes when Tony approaches is nearly akin to that of a territorial jungle cat, and only slightly less unnerving than the way he gathers Wilson’s body up in his arms and backs up, _all the way up_ the side of a building behind him with all the spindly, jerky finesse of one of his namesakes. Tony almost half-expects the young man to wrap Wilson up in a tight web cocoon to save him for later, causing a shudder and, not for the first time, the unwelcome intrusive thought that the kid would truly be a _nightmare_ if the thing holding him together inside ever snaps and causes him to flip sides.

Tony backs up to stand with the others again and mutters to Bruce, “What are the odds you think of Deadpool not waking up this time?”

“Slim to none,” is Banner’s official scientific prognosis. “Why do you ask?” He knows Tony well enough by now to tell that his concern is about more than the potential loss of a fallen comrade.

“Did you _see_ that just now?” Stark replies, gesturing as subtly as he can at the jagged shard embedded in the wall across the way. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m about to say this in a not _you-_ based situation but,” he turns his head slightly, one hand held unnecessarily to his ear in an unbreakable habit from ye olden days of old-school Bluetooth, “Friday, just as a precaution make sure Veronica is primed and ready to go, would you please.”

_“The Hulkbuster? Are you being serious right now?”_ Bruce hisses under his breath.

“Look, I hope like hell it’s not necessary but you _did_ see that, right? You want to imagine for a sec what happens next if Mr. Creepy Undead Boyfriend over there drops the ‘un’ for good this time?”

“I _really_ don’t like saying this, but Tony’s got a point,” Clint mutters just as softly as the other two.

“Surprised you heard that,” Tony mumbles.

“It’s called a hearing aid, you asshole,” Clint jabs a finger furiously at the device just barely visible inside his own ear. “Back to the part you missed where I was actually _agreeing_ with you for once,” he adds, slipping off his glove to show them the bruise forming on the back of his hand, “this sucker’s gonna be the size of an egg by tomorrow morning, and that’s him still trying to hold himself back for now. I don’t like it either, guys, but if somehow Wade doesn’t pull through this time, it means that God hates us and doesn’t think locusts or floods are gonna be enough to wipe us out. It’ll be Apocalypse via Spidey.”

“Don’t let Natasha see that,” Bruce warns. Clint nods, pulling the glove back on with a slight wince. She, Cap, and Falcon are scoping town to check for any stragglers from the alien army while Scarlet Witch leads a team including Vision and Ant-Man to search for survivors who might not have made it out of the wreckage in time and still need assistance. Bucky is away, currently aiding T’Challa with some other project in Wakanda, and Thor had to return to Asgard to avert another crisis there, though the latter will probably be miffed when he hears about all the fun he missed out on here once he returns.

A loud, sputtering gasp pulls their focus back to the situation at hand—or rather, the lack of one now. Each man relaxes minutely in his own way to see Wade Wilson, still dangling high above ground in Spidey’s arms, take in many deep, sharp breaths like a drowning man.

*

Peter is so happy now he could flap, if not for the fact that he’s stuck to the side of a building with arms full of his now not-so-dead weight but still pretty heavy boyfriend. Instead, he crushes the man closer into a hug and mumbles his name over and over again just like he did a few minutes before.

“Hey, b’by boy, wassup?” Wade mumbles, slurring just a little as he recovers from his recent demise like a heavy sleeper just waking up. “Oh, looks like us apparently,” he giggles once he realizes they’re high up off the ground.

“Wade, I _hate_ it when you do that,” Peter complains into the crook of his neck, still shaken. He can’t tell him _not_ to do it though, not when it’s to save someone else who won’t be coming back if he gets skewered.

“What, die?” Wade asks. All Peter can do is nod, blinking back tears that can’t be seen through the mask but that Wade knows are there anyway. This is why he tries to avoid dying as often now when he can. He shushes the younger man and reassures him, giving comfort despite the fact that he’s the one being held.

“This is giving me some pretty fabulous ideas for later though,” Wade tells him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively behind his own mask. It works at shaking loose the last bit of tension in Peter’s muscles while he laughs.

“Later,” he agrees, and gingerly climbs back down with his precious cargo in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dangit, why are there so many Avengers to keep track of and account for! I'm still 90% certain I forgot to mention _someone_ and that's gonna be somebody's fave and they're gonna be mad at me for it. Dx Don't even get me started on Rhodey, Daredevil, and others because I just silently thank god they're mostly either solo acts or off forming their own teams so I don't have to worry about any of them lol.


	8. Peter's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Persephoniac who requested Wade and May making birthday plans for Peter, Penelope_penny_Parker who requested a domestic scene with Peter stimming during a movie, and a nonnie who asked for some nostalgia. There's also just a smidge more ASL for you in there, Comically_mischievous, since you mentioned that in a comment awhile back. ;) Sorry this took so long, guys!

“What is _this?”_ Peter asks, and it’s the high-pitched squeak of excitement by the time he gets to _“this”_ that has Wade giving May and Ned a thumbs up over the hero’s shoulder as they walk into his aunt’s apartment together.

“Hey, dude,” says Ned, waving from his end of the frankly _massive_ blanket fort which has taken over pretty much the entirety of May’s living room.

“Happy birthday, hon,” says May, walking over to give her nephew a hug. “I know you don’t like surprise parties, or parties in general really, but we had to do _something_ special for your twenty-first and we all thought, ‘well, just a little one won’t hurt.’ So, _surprise!”_

 _“Surprise!”_ Peter echoes back and doesn’t even get embarrassed about it, he’s in such high spirits. Wade feels pretty good about that and they haven’t even gotten to his part yet. “But wait…” Petey turns a little in place to look up at him. _“All?_ Babe, were you in on this too?”

“Who do you think brought tonight’s entertainment?” he asks, suggestively shaking the backpack of Peter’s presents which came with them for the trip. “And here you were worried I might have gotten you something _inappropriate_ to open not suited to your auntie’s delicate eyes and ears.” Peter blushes and tries to jab him in the ribs with his elbow, while May coughs but looks like she’s trying to hide a smile. They’ve come a long way already from the days when May wasn’t too sure about trusting him yet and Wade would hardly dare to _breathe_ too loudly around her, much less make any kind of innuendo in front of her about his and Peter’s sex life.

“I also appreciate you leaving those presents at home, man,” Ned says, and Wade shushes him. Okay, yes, maybe he did get one or two extra gifts that weren’t exactly “suitable” to bring along, but Ned so didn’t need to guess right and call him out like that in front of the birthday boy!

“I didn’t even know you were gonna be here, Ned,” says Peter as he squats down to the floor to crawl into the fort next to his friend. May had invited just him and Wade over under the pretext of it being nothing more than a quiet birthday dinner at her home.

“Duh, that’s what makes the surprise so awesome.” The other boy pulls a wrapped box out from behind him. “Here, you can open mine first before we get into the other ones.”

It turns out to be some kind of board game that, from the way these two start rapid-fire discussing all the rules and mechanics of it, sounds like it’s probably complicated enough to make even a settler from Catan weep. Wade settles in to listen and try to absorb _some_ information out of it, knowing even then that Pete will have to explain everything to him about a dozen times before he gets it when they do inevitably play.

“Alright, gents,” May announces, kneeling to get comfortable as well. “Pizza’s here,” she says, indicating a stack of boxes next to the TV.

“I knew it!” says Peter, looking smug. “I could smell them from the other side of the door. I just figured that meant you’d burnt the meatloaf again.”

“If it wasn’t your birthday, I’d smack you, child. You know good and well we don’t talk about the meatloaf.”

“Ooh, do I sense a story there, May?” Wade asks.

“We _don’t_ talk about it,” she repeats. “Anyway,” she carries on like she was never interrupted. “This cooler’s full of sodas so nobody has to get up and go to the kitchen, knock yourselves out, boys. There’s _also_ a few of my favorite IPAs stashed in here though since it’s somebody’s first day to legally have them.” Wade thinks there might be the tiniest subtle emphasis on _“legally”_ and there’s a knowing, suspicious smirk on May’s face as she looks to her nephew.

“I don’t know what that look’s for, Aunt May,” says Peter with the face and voice of a total angel. “I have never done anything wrong ever in my life,” he adds in his best Mona Lisa Saperstein impression. “What is alcohol?”

“Uh huh,” she agrees with a click of her tongue. “I’m also mixing up White Russians later to go with your cake, but with rum because vodka always gives me a headache. You know how I used to make you chocolate milk to wash the goodies down? Well, it’s kind of like that except not remotely like it. Also, there’s rum in the cake too. Don’t go as nuts on the beers tonight, guys, is all I’m saying.”

Wade suddenly gets the impression that May has been waiting a _long_ _time_ for her precious lamb to turn twenty-one just for the excuse to serve up better than the kiddie stuff at the table. He suspects there’s a party girl buried somewhere under all the responsible mom layers deep down.

It’s finally time for the main event—Wade’s presents. He takes them out of his bag and sets them in a small pile in front of his little spider. Despite their number, it’s a fairly short stack and pretty apparent what type of gifts they are in their thin, rectangular packaging even under all the haphazardly taped wrapping paper.

“So this is a movie night, I’m guessing?” his spider asks.

“I don’t know, why don’t you open them and find out?”

The first one gets honest-to-god _hand flaps,_ as if this wasn’t already shaping up to be the best day of Wade’s life. ( **‘So far,’** Bold bubbles up just to remind him of the boxes’ presence, surprisingly super optimistic for once.)

“I was just talking about this movie the other day,” the birthday boy starts chattering excitedly. “And how I hadn’t seen it in _forever,_ do you remember—”

“I remember,” Wade cuts him off gently, grinning. “How about you keep going there, buttercup?”

“That one was always my favorite,” Ned says when Peter opens up the next one.

“Wait a minute,” Pete says, eyes darting between both unwrapped movies and the other still-hidden packages now, already picking up on the pattern unfolding like the cute little smarty-pants he is. _“No._ No way.” Immediately, he starts tearing into the next one, and the one after that, and so on.

Finally, the last of the wrapping gets torn off and Wade’s honeybunch sees that _yes way,_ he is in fact staring down at a full set of Don Bluth’s animated filmography. “I can’t believe this,” he sputters. “I used to watch these on our terrible old VCR with Aunt May and Uncle Ben all the time!”

“I know,” says Wade. “Your Aunt May told me.” May bites down on her lip almost shyly, looking close to teary-eyed with happiness at _Peter’s_ happiness, which is _so_ like nephew, like aunt right there. Must be where Peter gets it from.

“I still wouldn’t know what a VCR even was if not for you, man,” Ned jokes, rescuing them all from this turning into a weepy Hallmark movie moment. Ah, _millennials,_ or is it Gen Z-ers? Wade can’t even keep track these days; all he knows is that somehow he is dating someone who _shouldn’t_ remember VHS and only does because the Parker household really understands the value of the dollar and how to stretch it out by taking good care of old technology.

“Now you’ve got them on DVD, so you won’t have to worry about wearing them down or remembering to rewind them, sweetheart,” May points out pragmatically. No one points out that she means blu-ray because they’re not a bunch of rude jackasses and this is her house. Also, that’s a blu-ray player hooked up to the television behind her so she obviously knows the difference and just doesn’t care to change the terminology with the times, and Wade totes has mad respect for that.

“You had to _rewind_ them?” Ned does ask though, as if the very concept is a bit baffling to him. _Ah,_ millennials or Gen Z-ers, whichever one it is.

“I want to watch this one first,” says Peter, holding up _Rock-a-Doodle,_ and Wade loves him so much he doesn’t even call him out on his weird tastes, since technically there are no wrong answers when it comes to Don Bluth movies anyway.

His adorable dork hums along with a bunch of the songs under his breath, and even curls up a little more tightly under Wade’s arm at the part where it seems like the Grand Duke is about to eat little Edmond the kitten, _so precious._ Wade can’t help but notice either the way there’s constantly a chewy stim toy in his mouth if it’s not full of pizza and beer, or the way his spindly little fingers keep rubbing a stray bit of blanket draped across the floor in front of them.

By the time they get to _American Tail,_ everyone’s into it at this point, all four of them setting aside their pizza slices to sing along with “Somewhere Out There.” It’s the Real Life Musical Number Moment Wade has always dreamed of, and it’s not even _his_ birthday. Of course, then someone has to get the brilliant idea of watching _The Land Before Time_ next, and Wade wonders if he’s gonna have to stop their marathon in a hurry when Peter starts tearing up at the part where Littlefoot’s mother dies, but the younger man just squeezes his hand lightly and gives a little signal with his free hand that all is well, smiling up at him before averting his eyes back to the movie.

May gets up to bring out the cake and the promised cocktails. Their group nostalgia trip ends with them trying out the board game after the third movie ends and the cake is gone. It’s just as complex and confusing as Wade predicted, with him and May both glancing to each other over the nerds’ heads with looks of _“I don’t know what the fuck is going on”_ and _“me neither.”_ At one point, she gets up again to light a scented candle on the coffee table nearby but not _too_ close to the blankets to warrant a fire hazard.

“Are you saying we stink?” Ned asks with a mildly tipsy giggle even though he’s only partaken in the cake and the White Russian and had stuck to the sodas during pizza.

“Well, what do you expect? I’m trapped under a pile of blankets with three grown men, and not even in the fun way.”

 _“Aunt May!”_ Peter calls out, scandalized. Even Ned looks a little uncomfortable and like he doesn’t quite know what to make of that statement.

May practically falls over herself with laughter, pointing at her nephew. “Oh god, _your face,”_ she gasps out between giggles.

“I think somebody didn’t heed her own advice about drink limits,” Wade notes with a smirk.

“Hey, it’s my house. If I want to pass out under here after you all go home and drink twenty cups of coffee to stave off the hangover tomorrow, that’s my prerogative.” _Touché,_ May, touché.

All in all, a roaring success. _“Best birthday ever,”_ Peter whispers under the covers to him after they get home much, much later.

Wade has spent much of his life thinking he’ll gladly take whatever it wants to dish out so long as he gets something decent out of it once in a while, but _this?_ This, he’ll grab onto with both hands and to hell with even _thinking_ about ever letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~May just really likes her rum and her IPAs ok, shush, leave her alone xD~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **UPDATED NOTE AS OF 07/07/2018: I'm officially completing the prompt collection with this final chapter. I'm also putting the rest of my spideypool verse on indefinite hiatus. While I am still interested in continuing it one day, since posting this I've come to the conclusion that "one day" is a date too vague and too far off in the distant future to call this anything but a hiatus. Nothing is wrong, I simply have other interests and other stories I want to write that working on this unfortunately pulls focus away from. It's not fair to anyone if I get hopes up by continuing to make vague claims about a sequel coming when it is probably a year or longer away at best, and at worst may not be forthcoming at all if I ultimately decide against returning to it altogether. I apologize for not letting y'all know sooner, but I didn't make this decision lightly and have only just finalized it today. Thank you all so much for your understanding and support throughout the series, and for sharing in this fun journey with me!**


End file.
